


if they're searching for us, they'll find us side by side

by dinosaur



Series: ziall magical realism ficathon [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Domestic, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6888043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosaur/pseuds/dinosaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nearly November and that means short days and long nights and working his hands to bleeding in the coop and the pasture, carefully tending to the fields with coaxing spells and herbs, touching his hands to dusty dirt and hoping it turns to good strong soil.</p><p>Nearly November and that means more time to twine his arms with Zayn’s, to rest their gloved hands next to each other and watch over the mares, breath fogging clouds across the ground, more time to sit and talk quietly like they’re gonna stop even the silence from hearing them, more time to push his magic against Zayn’s and feel it answer back like a kiss, like a promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if they're searching for us, they'll find us side by side

**Author's Note:**

> part of an [ongoing prompted series](http://wepush.tumblr.com/tagged/nzmr) to add more ziall content to the magical realism tag. post for this fic at [x](http://wepush.tumblr.com/post/144526665060/).
> 
> title from dark doo wop by ms mr.

 

 

There’s no amount of magic that can remove cow poo, really.

Niall sighs down at his boots and then glares up at Bessy where she’s chewing on some fresh hay. She looks unbothered.

“This the thanks I get for feeding ya, huh?” Niall murmurs to her.

She chews back at him.

Niall tsks and rubs a circle against her neck. Bessy arches happily, chewing even louder. Laughing softly, Niall pats her once more and then turns to hike himself over the fence. The wood is worn and familiar under his hands, the tiny prickle of a spell from his great-grandda who set the poles and the lines.

It’s nearly worn to nothing.

Niall heaves a breath and rubs his thumb along a notch.

Soon, there won’t be naught left of it. Just a sad whisper like summer warmth in a winter of memories.

Niall walks along the pasture line carefully, watching for more patties.

The light of the house is a comforting speckle on the horizon. The brightness of it sharp and soft, at once, against the inky expanse of the farm in the dying light.

“Nearly November,” Niall whispers, tugging his jacket closer. He lets himself say a small spell for heat as the wind picks up. His jacket turns toasty.

Nearly November and that means short days and long nights and working his hands to bleeding in the coop and the pasture, carefully tending to the fields with coaxing spells and herbs, touching his hands to dusty dirt and hoping it turns to good strong soil.

The light of the house is a big blur of windows and chimney now, flickering a bit like candles, like the light is breathing.

It’s just its own life, though, isn’t within Niall’s magic’s power. Or Zayn’s either.

Zayn.

Nearly November and that means more time to twine his arms with Zayn’s, to rest their gloved hands next to each other and watch over the mares, breath fogging clouds across the ground, more time to sit and talk quietly like they’re gonna stop even the silence from hearing them, more time to push his magic against Zayn’s and feel it answer back like a kiss, like a promise.

Niall smiles as he pulls open the back door.

It creaks open into the washroom, the lonely washmachine and the basket spilling pants all over the tile. He laughs as he sits on the stoop to pull his poop boots off to set outside. He tries a little flicker of magic at them. The poo wobbles a bit and then stays stuck.

Niall shakes his head, laughing quietly.

“Niall?” Zayn’s voice calls, soft over the distance from in the house.

“Yup!” Niall calls back.

“Ah.”

Niall rolls down his socks and cocks an eyebrow like Zayn can see it. “You expecting someone else? Harry supposed to come down and ravage you in the barn?”

Zayn’s laughter comes back light and full, “Yeah, the barn and the north pasture and also the coop, so if you could clear out, that’d be a big help, thanks.”

Tossing his socks into the basket, Niall giggles. He locks up easily, redoing the spell with a quick murmur.

Zayn’s making noise in the kitchen, the smell of venison and onion and the lingering sharpness of magic overlayed on the stove. It’s homey, calls him into the doorway to watch for a bit as Zayn hums to himself, ponytail swinging as he alternates between the stove and the books on the table. Nearly November and it’s also time for the livestock to get their boosters.

Zayn’s system makes Niall smile. Doodles of all of the animals – Bumble with her big nose and Smidge with his floofy tail and Honey with his silly teeth – line the name column on the sheet. The compression spell goes lose with Zayn’s sweeping fingers and cells of information fold out of space for Bessy.

“Just finished her up,” Niall says, from the doorway.

Zayn makes a sound and moves one of his fingers. The cells go green. Zayn sweeps his hand and the compression spell folds them back up neatly.

“Was it ear mites?” Zayn asks, turning back to the stove.

Niall shakes his head, eyes on the stretch of Zayn’s shoulders, the ribbed pattern of his sweater. It’s a green like ground-mushed pine needles and Niall really ought to hate it because _pine needles_ but like most things on Zayn it just looks comfortable, safe.

“Niall?”

“Hm?

“Ear mites? Bessy?”

“Oh,” Niall shifts against the door jam, pulls his jacket a little closer around himself even though the fire’s been well stoked in the house and heat is crawling across the rooms easy. “Nah, just some grassy bits. Probably had one too many rolls in the pasture.”

Zayn turns around, winks, “Well, you wouldn’t know anything about rolls in the pasture, would you?”

“Nah,” Niall says, easy.

Zayn catches his eye and Niall hangs there, caught and feeling his cheeks warm. Just a look and Zayn makes him –

“Mhmm,” Zayn hums and flicks off the stove burner without looking.

Niall breathes deep, feels like swaying towards Zayn. Stepping closer like he knows, Zayn pulls at Niall lightly with a bit of his aura. Exhaling shaky at the edges, Niall goes. Zayn meets him easily, hands tucking themselves instantly under the wool of Niall’s jacket, clenching around the lingering fall pudge on his hips. Niall makes a small sound, reflexively, tipping his head so their jaws slide together, breath ghosting over skin, pulses so close it makes Niall’s race.

“Y’good?” Zayn mumbles against his ear, the tease of it sending shivers down Niall’s spine.

Helpless to stop himself, Niall bites at the tendons of Zayn’s neck.

Zayn exhales hard.

“Yeah, yeah, lemme,” Niall reaches out his magic as gradually as he can, feels the strange trickle of it like a leaky pipe down the back of his neck.

When Zayn’s magic reaches back, the trickle turns to a freezing splash. They gasp, together. Niall digs his fingers into Zayn’s back. It’s always an adjustment, he reminds himself as he tries to take deep breaths. They’ve always known that they aren’t quite compatible, their magics off by a few frequencies, but.

But, Zayn presses a sloppy kiss to the hinge of Niall’s jaw and Niall thinks what he did then, when everyone around them said _no_ and _don’t_ and _you’ll ruin each other_.

He thinks they manage just fine.

A little cold never hurt nobody and this is always good, sharp like relief.

Something on the stove crackles a bit.

“Okay?” Zayn asks.

Niall hums, tests the edge of where their auras are molding together, catching a bit, but smoothing the more they relax into it.

In the city, they could never get them fully slotted, cacophony of other auras pressed on top of them, messing up their careful, careful balance. Here, though, here in the endless fields and old forests, the quiet stretches like the horizon and Niall hasn’t seen a person other than Zayn for 7 weeks.

“Better than,” Niall answers.

Zayn pulls back to grin at him. Grinning back, Niall leans into the kiss. His magic sparks a bit, making Zayn giggle.  He pinches Niall’s hip.

“Nooo,” Niall whinges, arching into Zayn anyway.

Zayn laughs.

“C’mere, let’s get you out of this so we can sup’.”

“I do like sup,” Niall nods and folds into Zayn’s arms.

He pulls off Niall’s layers in practiced moves, rubbing his palms along the slope of Niall’s back with a look of concentration like he’s calculating the angle. The plaid, he unrolls the sleeves down, fingers brushing Niall’s arms and trailing goosebumps in their wake. A little breathless by the end of it, the sheer overwhelmingness of Zayn’s focus, always so soft, so sure, Niall raises an eyebrow at him.

Zayn shrugs, unrepentant and folds the layers up.

Niall slots his thumb into the sweet half-moon of Zayn’s sternum, because he can.  

Zayn kisses the top of his cheek.

“Supper.”

“Yes,” Niall agrees, “Supper.”

Niall goes to wash his hands, up to his elbows as Zayn finishes with the veg. Niall tugs on a new plaid shirt and gives up on his unruly hair.

When he gets back to the table, Zayn’s been distracted by the booster spreadsheet again.

Niall drops a kiss to his head and relishes the smell of Zayn, sharp and robust like sun on a tree canopy. “Aren’t I supposed to be nerdy one?”

Zayn makes a clicking sound, “You can be the nerdy one next week.”

Niall laughs and sets the table around Zayn.

Supper is quiet, both of them easing down from the day, Zayn putting the spreadsheet away in favor of tucking his foot behind Niall’s and Niall letting the worry of the day, the constant alertness of whohasfood, whohaswater, whichfencepostneedsnewnailsagain fade into the background.

Their magics finish slotting together just after Niall takes his last bite of venison. A few hours apart and a few minutes to come back together, Niall thinks happily.

“Mm,” he bumps his shoulder against Zayn’s.

“Mhm,” Zayn bumps back.

Zayn cups his hands around his mug and leans back in his chair. They play footsy for a bit, letting their stomachs settling and the fire from the living room roast the house to a familiar cedar rust. The weight of their magic together is heavy in Niall’s chest, turns his heart loud. He never used to feel it like this, magic was always just a flavoring on top of the world, a light sprinkling in the city like the small, scared stars overhead. For a moment, he wants to launch himself at Zayn, wrap themselves around them like a blanket, like earth.

Instead, he takes a deep breath and lets his lungs expand fully before letting it out slowly. He rolls the taste of their magic over his tongue and Zayn closes his eyes and his legs go tight around Niall’s.

“Guess Harry’s not gonna make it afterall, huh,” Niall puts on a face and pats Zayn’s elbow commiserating-like.

Zayn sniffs loudly, clutches his chest and stands to pick up their dishes and drop them in the sink. He braces his arms and leans his head down over it. Voice choked, he says, “I’m heartbroken.”

“Well darn, honey,” Niall pulls on an accent and gets up to pat at Zayn’s back. “That’s a shame.”

“Such a shame,” Zayn says and Niall can just see the curve of his grin, where he can’t hide it.

“Sorry,” he breathes into Zayn’s neck, “Appears you’re stuck with me.”

“Shucks,” Zayn whispers back.

Niall turns him around and kisses him, headless of how they’re both grinning too hard to really do it well. Zayn kisses back, hooking his thumb in Niall’s belt loop to tug them closer. Approving, Niall slots a knee in between Zayn’s, gets them flush against the sturdy kitchen cabinets. Zayn makes a quiet sound, slick and so warm against Niall. Niall makes a louder one in return.

After a few longer, deeper kisses, Zayn’s fingers thread through Niall’s hair. He gasps in a breath as Zayn tugs his head back, roughly.

Zayn’s fingers gentle, rub small circles against his scalp.

Niall closes his eyes into it, sways where Zayn’s hands tip him. He ends up back to Zayn’s front, the weight of Zayn like a shield against his spine. It’s like a small whisper of what he wanted before and Niall rubs his thumb along the bone of Zayn’s wrist, holds him close.

Zayn sighs out, ruffling the hair on the back of his neck.

“There we are,” Zayn whispers.

Their magic molds and melds and moves between them like a tide.

 _Yes_ , Niall thinks, _yes, there we are._

They stay there, breathing together. Nearly November and Niall relaxes everything he is into Zayn and feels the whole world narrow down to the two of them, sure and brilliant.

 

 

 


End file.
